


Who's Your Daddy?

by Kevin_Mask (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Kinnikuman, Kinnikuman Nisei | Ultimate Muscle
Genre: Daddy Kink, Fluff and Humor, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 02:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19861690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Kevin_Mask
Summary: Kevin and Warsman steal a moment alone during a busy birthday party.





	Who's Your Daddy?

_Light streamed through the cracks . . ._

It illuminated both figures, giving a soft glow to their skin. Kevin remained a dark and silhouetted figure, one that dominated the small laundry room, and his hair could almost pass for brown in the darkness, while the light caught at his blue eyes. They glistened. They came alive. The light around the door framed him, even as he shirked his shirt and trousers, and his muscles bulged with strength and self-restraint. Warsman hummed.

The sound echoed about the small room, breaking through the laughter from the party . . . _the clinking of glasses, the back-and-forth of arguments, the inane chatter of gossip_. . . it was a world of their own creation inside the four walls, with only the door separating them from the _chojin_ congregated in Robin Manor. They would need to be quiet. Warsman swallowed hard, as his eyes raked over that perfectly sculpted and masculine form. The black underwear was tented and sported an obvious erection, complete with a small damp spot . . .

Warsman stumbled back. He braced his hands on the rim of a washing machine, with his foot resting in the indent of the door, and his neck tilted to expose the long line of flawless skin, while his organic eye fixated on Kevin with blown pupils. The mask and helmet sat on the adjacent drier, just beside Kevin’s helmet. Warsman panted, while his callused fingers toyed with the metal, and he fidgeted where he sat with obvious movements.

“You’re still self-conscious,” observed Kevin.

“I do not have your beauty.” Warsman flinched. “No other _chojin_ has a ventilation grid in place of a mouth, limbs that can be detached or reattached, or circuit boards running in conjunction with brain matter. I am a creature half human and half robot. You could have any man or woman that you so chose, but instead you occupy yourself with . . . _me_.”

“If anyone else spoke about you that way, I’d tell them to bloody do one. What right do you have to talk about my boyfriend like that?” Kevin smiled. “I’ll have you know that you’re the most handsome man alive . . . expressive features, smooth skin, good body . . .”

“Well-endowed, too,” teased Warsman.

“Oh, definitely,” laughed Kevin.

Kevin hooked his fingers into his underwear. A quick tug had them dropping onto the floor, as he stepped out of them and stood on full display, and – with added flourish – he kicked them to one side and walked towards Warsman. He stopped between now spread legs, where he rested his hands on thick thighs. Warsman shivered. The touches were gentle and teasing, with the fingertips tracing figures-of-eight against his smooth skin.

He slid further along the washing machine, until the cool wall was flush against his back. Kevin leaned forward, as long locks of blond hair tickled at his legs, and awkwardly crawled on top of the washing machine, which creaked under their combined weight. Warsman threw out a hand to steady Kevin. Kevin chuckled. He braced himself on broad and sturdy shoulders, while he pressed their foreheads together and panted for breath, and their members – erect and weeping – touched with arousing warmth. Warsman moaned.

“I wish we could take our time,” murmured Kevin. “I doubt anyone’s going to want to do washing during Daddy’s birthday party, but if anyone gets lost or decides to take a break or even just gets nosy . . . I know I usually like it long and hard, but –”

“– today we shall do what they call a ‘quickie’?”

“Just promise me you’ll keep it rough?”

“And how would I do that when I’m sitting in this position?” Warsman bumped their foreheads and laughed. “Just do not ask me to try dirty talk again. I still feel guilty for calling you a ‘misbehaving bitch’, but I also still cannot get over your laughter when I said that ‘you have been disobedient, Daddy must spank you for that’ – _there, you are laughing again_!”

Kevin buried his face into the crook of Warsman’s neck. He pressed soft and plump lips to the skin, where he delivered a series of lingering kisses, and his teeth would very carefully graze just over the now throbbing vein, while he breathed heavy and fast. Each panted breath stole away Warsman’s ability to think . . . to process . . . every so often, Kevin would even blow a slow and steady stream of warm air into his ear, before he would nibble at the lobe. It sent every nerve of his body aflame, while his member twitched below.

A pair of hands ran over his chest, until thumbs brushed against nipples. It was a gentle touch . . . barely there . . . yet it drew a long groan from Warsman, as his eye lost focus and his tongue came out to lick at his lips. The thumbs flickered in just the way that Kevin knew would draw continuous gasps from his lungs, while Kevin arched his back and mewled against him, with his pert and plump buttocks on prominent display.

“You just don’t have the knack for dirty talk,” laughed Kevin. “That’s fine, as it was awfully off-putting to have you apologise after every insult or ask if what you said was okay, but – if you _really_ want to see if we can get this right, I can be a naughty boy for you . . . _Daddy_.”

His cock jumped.

The word sent surprising shivers down his spine. The breathlessness only added to his arousal, as if Kevin were too lost in desire to control his speech, and there was just something about being addressed with that level of respect . . . given that level of control . . . it made him feel strong, needed, and important. He jolted his legs and forced Kevin flush against him. A yelp escaped Kevin. Warsman grabbed at his chest, rough and passionate . . . 

Kevin writhed and groaned, as he strove to keep up his touches in turn, but Warsman smirked . . . even if his half-robotic face would not allow it, even if Kevin would not see it . . . _he smirked_. He would make it his mission to drive Kevin to the brink of madness, teasing him with foreplay until he would lose all his sense, and then – when Kevin could stand no more – relishing in the high-pitched cries as his rode through his orgasm. Warsman allowed one hand to tweak and pull and twist at a nipple, while another groped at Kevin’s buttock.

He grazed his finger along the hole. Kevin bucked and whined, as his fingers accidentally pulled a little to firmly against Warsman’s nipple, and – with a hiss of breath – Warsman twisted out of the hole . . . _‘sorry, Daddy’._ A bead of pre-come spilled from his cock. It twitched and throbbed, as his mouth ran dry and his heart pounded in his ears, and his eyes locked on Kevin, who was already losing all sense of self . . . _natural, fearless, finally letting go of doubts and resentments and issues . . . free . . ._ Kevin looked beautiful.

Kevin wrapped his arms around Warsman’s shoulders, while the most delicious sounds escaped his throat in a continuous stream, and he nearly came undone when Warsman’s hand encircled their members. He found a middle-ground between their different preferences, something hard enough to stimulate Kevin and soft enough to appease him. The pace was fast and his hand would twist on every upward stroke. Kevin cried out, as Warsman begged:

“Shh, Robin will hear . . .”

Kevin scoffed. He hit one of the buttons at the front of the machine, and Warsman swore as the whole machine came to life with powerful vibrations. It hit something deep inside him, while catching at his cock just right, and – much to his embarrassment – it threw off the rhythm of his hand on both their members. He threw back his head. It struck the wall, bringing out another curse as the pain merged with the pleasure.

“I plan on him hearing,” whispered Kevin.

“ _Прокатись на мне. Ты прекрасна_.”

“I – I can’t ride you.” Kevin’s eyelids fluttered. “We don’t have t-time to . . . _oh God, Daddy!_ . . . no time to – to – to prepare. Just – Just go a little harder? I’m close . . . so close, feels so good . . . I wish I could feel you in me, filling me . . . _a-ah, ooh_. . .”

A warm sweat broke over their flesh. It stuck blond hair to pale skin, while Kevin’s eyes dilated wide, and Warsman – blond locks mussed and heart pounding loud – let go of his member to take a hold of Kevin alone . . . giving him what he wanted and needed. The arousal never left him, as he watched his lover come undone in the most erotic manner. He tightened his grip on Kevin’s cock. The pressure and speed brought an instinctual worry, but Kevin held so tight to his neck, almost cutting off oxygen, as he bucked wild against him.

“I’m so close,” gasped Kevin. “Harder, Daddy.”

The sweaty skin against skin was uncomfortable, with audible pealing sounds each time they moved, but there was something about being so close to his lover . . . _the intimacy, the trust, the pleasure_ . . . his nose and mouth were forced against Kevin’s neck, where he stole breath on every upward thrust as his face briefly came away. Every moan reverberated through Kevin, until Warsman felt every vibration. There was a slap of skin on skin. He fought back the pins-and-needles in his legs, but it was nothing but proof of their love . . . their desire . . .

“Daddy. Daddy!”

_‘Is everything okay in there, son?’_

A knock sounded. It killed Warsman’s arousal. There was always some thrill to being caught, as well as a burst of arousal at the idea of being watched, but the idea of one’s best friend walking in on them during sex . . . _his boyfriend’s father . . ._ Warsman was lost between the urge to finish his partner and dash to his clothes. Kevin continued. It was impossible to know whether he heard and didn’t care or just didn’t hear at all. Kevin screamed:

“ _Daddy_!”

Two things happened simultaneously: Kevin came and Robin entered. A burst of hot and sticky come shot over his stomach in thick and long ropes, each one marking him with visible white lines, and Kevin – arching his spine – threw back his head and choked on saliva. He was eerily silent, as the come started to dribble slow and steady. In the burst of light, Warsman could see that his body was flushed and sweat drenched every muscle, and it took all his strength to catch Kevin before he could collapse. Every breath was but a pant.

Warsman glanced over Kevin’s shoulder. Robin stood still in the doorway, with his hands clenching the stem of a broken champagne flute, and wine stained the floor beneath his feet, while shards of glass lay scattered among the mess. In the kitchen behind him, Mantaro and Kid laughed until they cried with a giggling Jacqueline beside them. Warsman felt his stomach churn . . . _‘they are laughing at the situation, not me’_. . . he buried his head.

The door was quickly slammed shut, but Kevin only laughed in response. It brought heavy jerks to his chest, while his lips pressed closed to hide the worst of the sounds, but the laughter was clear nonetheless. No words were said, as Robin stormed across the room and snatched at Warsman’s face-plate and shoved hit towards him. It was difficult to replace the mask with one hand, especially as his other fiddled with Kevin’s long locks in order to help hide his body from sight, but Robin patiently waited to one side with arms folded.

“Well,” said Robin. “I guess I’m not the only one you call ‘Daddy’.”

Warsman choked. It was the worst dry-retching and coughing experienced, as he choked on nothing but saliva and oxygen, but – when Kevin tried to pull back to check on him – he could only react by yanking Kevin impossibly close, before he wrapped his legs around him and buried his face into the crook of his neck. He tried to hide. Kevin sighed and stroked at his hair, while seemingly trying to climb down from the washing machine that still roared with life, but he could not quite break free from those legs and arms.

One foot soon touched the floor, while Warsman was pulled to the edge of the machine. The other sat in the circular indent of the front door. He tried to reach away to grab at his clothes, but Warsman refused to be seen in such a vulnerable state . . . to have someone else see his body, to have someone else see him in such an intimate state . . . luckily, Robin took mercy, as the leather coat and Warsman’s bottoms were tossed to them.

“I thought there was some emergency,” spat Robin.

“Not at all.” Kevin pulled on his coat. “We just snuck away for some alone time, but it got a wee bit out of hand, that’s all . . . you know what they say, right? Every boy needs a father, but every man needs his daddy. I’m just sorry it led to some confusion, that’s all.”

“And you had to do this on my _birthday_? Of all the days -!”

“It wasn’t intentional,” shrugged Kevin. “Plus, one of us should probably get laid, right?”

Robin pointed a finger. A sharp hiss of breath fell from him, as if he were midway through a word and thought better of the action, and – with a low scoff – he spun around with hands clenched at his sides, until his knuckles turned deathly white. Kevin quickly took the opportunity to pull on Warsman’s bottoms, before tossing him the rest of his outfit to cover up to his usual standard. There was just enough time before Robin turned. It was impossible to see his eyes behind the mesh of his mask, but his voice was low and cold, as he said:

“Let me say one thing that will ruin sex for you for some time.”

“Yeah? What would that be, Daddy?”

Warsman could almost feel the smile. A low chuckle escaped Robin, as he glared at them through his mask and marched towards the door, and this time – as he flung it wide open – it was Terryman and Kinnikuman laughing behind their hands, as they waited to tease their best friend in the apparent scandal of the century and gossip of the year. Robin paused. He cricked his neck. He turned just enough to lower his head and stare over the rim of his mask.

“Your mother calls me ‘Daddy’, too,” said Robin.

Kevin cried out in horror as the door slammed closed. They were left alone in the dark laundry room, while the noises of the party continued outside, and Warsman finally slid down onto the floor and dropped his head between his legs, while the washing machine vibrated against his back in a way that failed to do anything for him. The two of them remained in awkward silence, until the door opened a crack. Robin could just about be seen through the slither of light from beyond, as he kept his door on the handle to yell through:

“We also like using that washing machine as well. It really hits the spot!”

The door slammed shut just before the retching began. Kevin whined about ‘brain bleach’ and other expressions unfamiliar to Warsman, even after naturalisation and so many years spent within the isles, and his language descended into local ‘Cockney’ and with a speed so fast that it may as well have been a different tongue. Warsman smiled and rubbed at where his nose ought to have been, as he attempted to break the tension with a joke.

“I wonder what setting _they_ used,” murmured Warsman.

Kevin tossed a shirt at his head.


End file.
